i do wish it was engineering i loved
It seems when I write for real for real it never balances out here. Internet is so self-serving. The idea that maybe someone is reading and understanding and knowing and you are not alone in the world. Or maybe you're just writing to dead air and that feels good too.
There is so much to be done, and so little motivation to do it. Self-hating theatre major. Huh.
FIN. 1:54 a.m., Wednesday, Mar. 29, 2006